


rustic boys

by mukaismom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: 3rd person from geromes pov, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Fashion Choices, Crushes, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, once again only rated T for swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukaismom/pseuds/mukaismom
Summary: Awkward, stoic man falls in love with sunny best friend. Said best friend seems anxious. What could possibly happen now?!?!





	rustic boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iavenjqasdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/gifts).



> wow i had more trouble than usual w titles and summary so there ya go boys. yall this is some farm gays au iaven and i talked abt a while back and now its jeroazu-brand. Minerva is now a horse and Inigo gets to wear crop tops. thats just how it is.

Gerome, on the whole, is a graceful man. He doesn’t remember the last time he tripped and he’s spilled a drink once in his life, and even then it was on purpose (an apple juice box, 4th grade, on Derek Heintz who made fun of his mother.) He has never fallen out of a chair, slipped in the shower, or dropped ceramics on the floor. So, when he walks into a screen door for the first time in his life, he shouts, then sits down on the floor in defeat.

He knows exactly why he walked into this screen door, but he doesn’t want to think about it. Instead, he listens to the sound of the laundry machine from the room next door—  _Ka-bunk. Ka-bunk. Ka-bunk--_ until it’s too much and he heads to his room.

A crush on your best friend, in the long run, is never a good thing.

Gerome grumbles and grabs his riding boots. If he can’t forget about it, then he’ll exercise his feelings away.

His horse, Minerva, is stabled at Maribelle’s barn. Gerome works there, cleaning stalls and training new horses instead of paying for Minerva’s stall space. Today is his day off, but as usual, he shows up anyway.

The property is covered in miles of tall grass and enough willow trees to take cover from the summer sun. Sometimes on his work breaks he meets Inigo underneath one of the trees; other times in the stables themselves. He’s not much help, and one time he wore a crop top and complained when he ended up with horsefly bites on his belly, but it still makes Gerome’s stomach flip, his impractical outfits and the fact that he’s even  _there_ , spending time with him. He hates that feeling because it makes him wish.

He hasn’t even reached the barn when someone grabs his arm, hard. Inigo knows not to touch him suddenly like that, but here he is, looking a little breathless.

“Were you running?” Gerome asks. Inigo flushes even more. Today he’s wearing a puffy long-sleeved shirt, thank god; he won’t complain about bites on his arms or stomach then—but then he notices Inigo’s jean cut-offs and sighs.  _You’ll regret that later_ , he wants to tell him, but Inigo’s thighs look so good that any reprimand Gerome could give him sticks in his throat.

“Yeah, to catch up to you!” he says and notices his hand on Gerome’s arm, dropping it in a rush. “Oh! Sorry, I did that without thinking.” Gerome wants to say,  _I don’t really care if it’s_ you _touching me,_ because it really is true, he realizes,but he knows that wouldn’t sound the way it’s supposed to.

“That’s okay,” Gerome says. “I was gonna go see Minerva. Wanna come?”

“Ah!” Inigo grabs Gerome’s arm again and lets go in the span of a single step. “Sorry, I keep doing that.” He laughs shortly.

Something’s up. Inigo is the master of fake laughs, but Gerome’s known him long enough to discern them. There’s the courtesy laugh he gives to Mr. Belmont every time he offers Inigo a teaching job (they always seem to be at the coffee shop at the same time. Inigo begs Gerome to come with him when he grabs his lattes now because of that.) Another is when he bumps into people in the grocery store, which sounds friendly enough but it’s too high-pitched to be genuine. Then, there’s the one that he uses after he has a panic attack, low and cut off.

He hates that laugh even more than the stupid, hopeful stomach aches he gets when he looks at Inigo, and that’s what this one sounds like.

“Inigo, are you alright?” Gerome stops and looks at Inigo’s face. He rarely does that; it’s difficult, too close to eye contact, but a few days ago Kjelle said something about that calming Noire down. If it might help Inigo, he’ll do it. But when he smiles, it looks too tense.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Great! But, uh,” Inigo scratches the back of his head, “Can we see Minerva later?”

Something is very much up. More up than he thought before. “Why?” Gerome asks.

“I just wanna walk with you, you know?” Inigo chuckles again. “It’s hard to talk to you from on Minerva, you know.”

That is true. It’s hard for Gerome to hear anything when he rides with him, because Inigo’s voice is lost behind him and because Gerome inevitably becomes distracted by the firm warmth of his friend pressing against his back. Inigo needs to repeat his sentences often then.

“Okay,” Gerome says. “Lead the way.”

Inigo does. Not very well, though. He keeps checking behind him, as if he’s afraid Gerome will run off. He won’t, of course, and wants to ask Inigo why he’s so jumpy, but he figures he’ll dismiss it again.

There’s a lake on Maribelle’s property, surrounded by beech trees and willows. They sit there, watching ducks bob quietly in the water. Inigo told him before that he wants to hold a duck at least once in his life. Gerome suggested raising them, and he could come over and care for them if he's busy. Inigo is still duck-less, but Gerome thinks that just makes him grin harder when they waddle within a yard of him.

He seems to have relaxed. His shoulders are back and he’s got a lazy smile. Gerome watches a swan across the lake wonders if maybe now he can ask him what was wrong. What is wrong? What  _might_  be wrong? He doesn’t know.

He turns and it looks like Inigo had said something but gave up. He told Inigo back when they were young that sometimes he just doesn’t hear things, and that it doesn’t mean he’s ignoring him, so Inigo is used to it. If he really wants Gerome to hear something when he zones out, Inigo repeats it a few times.

But Inigo’s smile is gone. Maybe he forgot and  _does_ think Gerome’s ignoring him? He doesn’t look worried like before, but his eyes look distant and a little sad and Gerome’s stomach falls. He wants to reach out and hug him, but instead he settles for resting a hand on his shoulder.

Inigo looks at him, comically shocked. “ _Gerome_? Touching  _me_ before I touch  _him_?” He laughs and his eyes look a little more present. And slowly, gently, places his hand on Gerome’s other shoulder.

“Sorry for being so weird today,” Inigo says. He’s not looking Gerome in the eyes, which he would normally be thankful for but it’s just not  _Inigo_. “I just…” he pauses and removes his hand to scratch his neck, “…I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

 _Oh really?_ Gerome thinks sarcastically, but his lips quirk anyway. “I know,” he says. “It’s okay. Some days are like that.”

“No, uh…” Inigo’s a little sunburned now, but Gerome can see his blush. “It's more than just a day kinda thing…” he wrings his hands and purses his lips and does everything to indicate he’s uncomfortable and Gerome just wants to hug him  _more_ now, or press his palms to Inigo’s cheeks, or really, to kiss him softly  _or_  kiss him right into the ground, and that’s how he knows he’s not thinking about comforting Inigo anymore and just about his own feelings.

“Inigo,” Gerome says, too loud and too forceful. He softens his voice. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Okay?"

Gerome takes a deep breath, in and out. “I like you. And I have for a while.” He wants to say more, but he feels like he can’t get the words out. And Inigo stares at him. The silence is pressing and only broken by the obnoxious quack of a duck.

And Inigo hugs him. He’s shaking and Gerome panics. Did he hurt him? Scare him? What did he do?

“ _God_ , I thought you were gonna say you didn’t wanna be friends anymore or something,” he says into Gerome’s shoulder. He’s laughing, not crying. “I like you too, dumbass. That's _literally_ what I was going to say.”

Gerome feels awkward at first returning the hug, but he relaxes into it. It’s calming and better than any hug they’ve had before. Closer and warmer.

“Really?” he asks blankly.

“Really.” Inigo pulls back and crosses his legs. “I was actually setting up the barn to confess to you. That’s why I didn’t wanna go in yet. I thought you would come a little later you know, so not all the letters were up yet—”

“The letters?”

“Yea, like, you know those paper cutouts you hang up for birthdays and stuff? I was gonna put them in the barn and hang this heart tinsel stuff I got from Walmart on Minerva. Oh, the cutouts were gonna say, ‘Gerome, will you be my boyfriend?’ I wanted it to be more clever than that, but I couldn’t think of anything and Owain and Brady didn’t help at all, so I just kinda…sorry, I’m just nervous.” Gerome thinks Inigo’s crinkly-eyed smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Inigo?” Gerome’s face is red, he can feel it. “Can I kiss you?” He nods.

When Inigo’s lips meet his, he knows that this moment alone is worth the stomach aches.

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.rosesandvintageshop.com/listing/535430820/vintage-70s-cheesecloth-embroidered
> 
> that. is the kinda shirt i meant when i said puffy and long sleeved. a tacky 70s peasant blouse. imagine whatever embroidery or color u want.


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